This is Why Beer is a Bad Idea
by Grace Raven
Summary: They blamed Turkey for all of it. And Belarus.  And possibly Italy.  Either way, they severly regretted everything the next morning. Drunk!Greece/Drunk!Denmark.


DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia: World Series or drinking.

**This is Why Beer is a Bad Idea**

A/N: **WARNING: ****A lot of drunken talking, meaning a lot of bad spelling so as to create the fact that the characters are drunk out of their minds. And cursing in the end. And Prussia being a transvestite at a stripper club. Don't say you haven't been warned.**

Truth be told, it had started off as a semi-normal night, even if all the occupants in the bar were the least likely of countries to talk to each other. Or even drink in the other's presence.

"No giving a little kid beer," Belarus stated coldly, staring icily at the offender. The fact that she had just called North Italy a child flew over everyone's heads.

"But Sweden does it all the time! Why do you think Finland's such a heavy drinker now?" Denmark retaliated, taking back the beer he had tried to sneak to Italy and his arms flailing ever so slightly. "When did Greece get here?" he questioned, just now noticing the Greek behind the bar.

"Dunno," Belarus mumbled, sipping her drink.

"Greece, ve~," Italy said airily, hugging said country.

"I was magicked here by something," Greece replied dumbly, hugging the Italian back.

Ignoring the fact that '_magicked'_ was not even a word, Denmark stared blankly at the Mediterranean nations, saying: "Go have a siesta with each other." Looking over to the fourth occupant, he found himself bluntly stating: "Oh God, Belarus."

What she was doing is disclosed information that only an authoress who has no idea what she's doing can know.

Belarus glared, Denmark frowned. Greece yawned, Italy hugged. Denmark tried to look under Belarus' skirt, Belarus kicked him. Greece started playing classical music, Denmark called him a loser and a conversation about classical music began. What a lovely night.

If only they knew what crap they were going to get into.

Looking back, things most definitely started when Greece momentarily feel asleep behind the counter (why he was doing the serving, nobody knew), allowing Denmark free access to the alcohol. As Italy stared off into space with dreamy eyes—as per usual—and Belarus ate food that no one was sure where it came from, Demark reached for a wine bottle, unintentionally waking Greece.

"Turkey is in the building," was the first intelligible thing he could think of saying. It worked out, though, as a fire immediately ignited in the Greek's eyes.

It was at this time that Italy returned to the real world and reminded everyone of how Turkey and Greece came incredibly close to making love under the world meeting table the day before.

The Mediterranean nation in question flushed a pretty red and grabbed a bottle a beer that was conveniently placed next to the wine Denmark was reaching for. "Good times," Italy sighed to himself while Greece quickly poured himself a beer and downing it.

"Can I have a root beer?" the Dane inquired innocently, having evil intentions in mind.

"Sure," the bartender said, tossing a root beer to the blonde customer.

Unfortunately, Denmark's plan to pour some alcohol from a flask he hid in his coat pocket then give it to Italy failed horribly, as the second the root beer was in the blonde's hands, the Italian received a call from his older brother, who told him to "_hurry the hell home, I fucking need your shitty help with something_".

(It was truly frightening to see Italy repeat that whole sentence to them, curse words and all. The Northern half of Italy acted as his Southern counterpart much too well.)

Everyone hugged the cheerful nation goodbye, except Belarus, who was still eating and refused to even touch a single person. Denmark rid himself of his root beer (by expertly shooting it in the trash can instead of returning it to the bartender) and Greece drank some more beer.

"Stoo—peed Turkey…" a tipsy Greece mumbled. A beat, and then he was blinking slower than normal. "Why…are there so many?"

"Uh…because you're delusional?" Denmark tried, glancing at Belarus for help, only to receive a _'stop fucking staring at me, you creep_' look from her.

"Nooo. You gaiz are."

Denmark merely patted Greece's head. "There's only two of us here…me and Belarus."

Greece gave him a wide, one-eyed stare, his other eye closed for an unknown reason. "Really?"

"Yes, really." At this point, the Dane believed that the man across from him was too tipsy to notice anything, so he bluntly took the beer from Greece's hand and drank it. It was at this point that Belarus paid her tab and walked out, most likely to search for her brother to see if he was still in the building and intending to return at some point, if the fact that she left behind her jacket and portfolio (from the meeting earlier that day) was any indication.

"Heeeeyyy."

"Yessss?"

"Why'd joo take it?" The Greek dumbly pointed to his stolen beer in Denmark's hand, the latter of whom automatically downing it.

"I wanted it, that's why."

The look in Greece's eyes then could only be described as sheer amazement.

Denmark paid and drank three more beers.

The Mediterranean nation leaned towards the Dane, one of his eyes closing yet again. "I like yor hair," he stumbled out, somewhat reaching forward to touch the blonde strands of hair.

The Scandinavian country giggled, remarking that he was feeling a little tipsy then consuming two more beers. "Huur, I like your hair twooooo."

Repeating Denmark's action earlier, Greece patted the other's hair, Denmark trying to imitate the action but ended up patting Greece's cheek.

"Hahaaaaaaaaa, your hair feels liek skiinn." Greece laughed at this slowly, hiccupping immediately afterwards. "Hrrrmmm, there's two of youuuu." The Dane drank one more beer, marking his seventh that night.

"Where?" Greece asked, searching for his mysterious "other self".

"Uuuuuummmmm, purdy eyes."

Grabbing vodka (which Russia had left behind when he ran away because he heard Belarus coming), the Greek smacked his lips and thanked the taller male. The blonde demanded the vodka, graciously being handed the bottle the minute he asked for it.

"Izz gud."

"Thank yoooouz."

Greece stumbled slightly and Denmark fell onto the counter, the effects of the alcohol becoming stronger. "Yor…so good…lukin'," the Greek remarked, placing his hands on the counter to keep balance.

"Thank yoooou. Yur good lukin' twoooo."

"Tank…yoooooouuu." The brunette hiccupped again, a kissy face appearing upon his expression rapidly.

"Yooouuu welcomez," Denmark said, his tongue flicking out.

Belarus returned quietly, walking in just as Greece stumbled forward to kiss Denmark's lips but missed and kissed his neck, mumbling a "_Whoops_" upon making the mistake.

"Hehe, yur breath tickles~~."

The very-much drunk Greece found Denmark's statement hilarious, sliding off the counter—that he had bent over to kiss Denmark—and falling onto the floor.

"Where'dja go, mannnn?" Denmark asked, looking over Greece's side of the counter and somehow falling onto said Mediterranean country. Belarus, in a weird moment of actual _care_ (heaven forbid that happen again), moved over to the fallen nations, looking over them from the other side of the counter. "Oh heeeeyy, Belarus is heeerreeee."

"…The hell?" Belarus bluntly said, staring at the drunken duo.

"Haaiii," Greece greeted, lazily lifting his hand and waving to the lone woman.

"You should come join ussss, Belarusss."

"No."

"But its funnnnn."

"I lik…diss…" Greece mumbled, diverting the subject and petting Denmark.

"Yeah, no thanks," Belarus stated with finality, looking away and sitting at the counter.

"Me too," Denmark agreed, hugging the brunette.

Surreptisiously, Belarus leaned over to look at the two again, taking a quick picture and whispering "For Hungary."

"Eeeeehhh?"

"Was…dat lite?"

"Idiots."

Denmark giggled, licking Greece's cheek. "I dink soooo."

Taking the (nowhere near sober) initiative, Greece gave Denmark a wet kiss on the lips, the latter of whom blushing from the action before a huge smile came onto his mouth.

"I lurves youuuu."

"I lurves joo twooo."

Belarus rolled her eyes and chucked an empty beer can at them, the duo whining in unison.

"Wat was that feerrrr?" Denmark frowned like a kicked puppy. "Belarus is meannnnn."

"Dat…hurted," Greece cried, rubbing the injury spot on his head.

"For you two being dumb enough to get drunk then snog each other on the bar floor," Belarus answered coolly, scowling at them in distaste.

"Whuuuuut?"

"Soooooo?"

"Forget it." She shook her head, wondering how she got stuck with the two and why she was even still there. Denmark randomly fell asleep, momentarily giving Belarus happiness for she only had to deal with Greece, who was speaking a lot less than Denmark.

"Its funnnn," Greece whined.

She spoke too soon.

"Yeah, it'll be even more fun once I tell Norway about this little encounter."

"Noooo dun…tell."

"Why not?"

"Because…" the rest of Greece's sentence was inaudible. Belarus rolled her eyes.

"Here, have fun with this." She dug into her purse, pulling out a Japan plushie and throwing it at Greece, the toy accidently bouncing off Denmark and waking him up. Don't ask her where she got it—not even _she's _sure where it came from.

"Nipponnn," Greece cooed, hugging the plushie to his face. Denmark slowly opened his eyes.

"Hrrmmmm? Whut about Norge?" the blonde asked, rubbing at his blue eyes.

"I'll tell him about your fun little night over here," the Belarussian replied, hand unconsciously clutching her camera.

"Maybe he'll wanna join!" the Dane exclaimed, optimistic as ever.

"Doubt it," Greece quickly said, his face in absolute glee as he held the Japan plush. Denmark pouted but his eyes lit up in curiousity when he saw the toy.

"I wanna hold et."

"Herrree," the Greek drawled, passing the plush to his equally drunk friend and hugging him. Denmark took the toy, snuggling Greece as he held it.

"Yur so sofftt."

Belarus couldn't help but film the stupidity.

"You…tooooo." Greece nuzzled the Scandinavian nation, the two of them hugging the Japan plushie together. There were a few moments where they were _cooing _obnoxiously before Denmark dove in for a kiss, the Greek kissing him back immediately. This continued on for a good minute until Greece spotted a good old **keg **of **beer.**"Luk...its Germany'ss beerr."

"Oooooooh. I wanna someeeee!" Denmark proclaimed happily, breaking away from Greece's hold and reaching for the keg.

A spark of amusement and mischief lighted in Belarus, a sly smirk curling onto her lips. "Drink it, it'll give you wings."

Too drunk to think correctly, Greece and Denmark wholly believed her.

"Realleh?"

"Awesomeee. I wanna have wings."

Greece grabbed the keg. "Me too."

Apparently, Germany's beer was Red Bull*, but that was a different story for a different time.

Allowing Greece to go first, Denmark watched as the former turned the valve of the keg and drank, his ability to be patient quickly wearing away. "Nnneeehhh, gimme."

Closing the valve, Greece said: "Is gud" before falling over.

Repeating Greece's actions, Denmark opened the valve and drank. "Is bery gud…" he commented, turning the keg upside down and pouring the entire thing over him and Greece.

Greece found this amazingly funny.

Once the keg ran out, Denmark addressed the only sober person in the room. "Hmmmmm, Belarusss…you should have some twwwoooooo."

Belarus blinked in surprise before returning to her noncommittal stare. "I'm…yeah…No thanks."

"Ish gud fer youuuu," the Dane retaliated.

"I don't drink," she snapped.

"Yes you dooooo."

"Prove it, axe boy."

"Yer drinkin' right naooooo," he pointed out, signaling to the drink in front of her—an unknown drink that was Italy's.

Belarus took one glance at the drink before pushing it away.

As this happened, Greece removed his soaked shirt, smiling stupidly. "Seee…you…lyek et," he said, referring to the drink.

Belarus' eyes widened. "Put your shirt back on, Greece…" She looked away, only glancing back once to make sure the camera was still filming.

"But I lyek et," Denmark stated. "Yer so tannnn." Randomly, he began struggling to take off his trench coat.

"Izz weted…" Greece stated the obvious, pointing to his discarded shirt.

"Soz your appronnnn," Denmark informed, successfully undoing two buttons.

Belarus—who had made the mistake of returning to watching the intoxicated duo—face-palmed and covered her eyes.

"I lyek the sun," the Greek stated, staring up at the lamp thinking it was the sun. "Dere…"

"Where?"

"I taked off…mah apron," the Mediterranean country said, holding up his discarded apron.

"You did…" Denmark's eyes widened, simply amazed at Greece's ability to remove his apron. He fiddled with his coat again, this time undoing a grand total of all the buttons and throwing off his coat.

"Yor purdy Dennnmark."

"Yer purdierrr."

Greece petted the blonde again.

Belarus sighed. "The things I do for Hungary…"

It was at this time that Greece finally noticed the camera. "Balerus…waz that?"

She hit her head on the counter. "It's called a camera."

"Its cuz you luffs herrr," Denmark said, replying to her comment about Hungary and angering her.

Throwing a random glass at Denmark, Belarus shouted "Shut it!"

"Hurr…luffs," Greece mumbled.

"She doess."

Belarus' eye twitched.

"I luffs you, Belarus," Denmark claimed, throwing his arms up as to hug her.

"…Great to know." She glared at him and his offending arms.

"But I luffs Greecy moarrr."

Her eye twitched again. "Then go on a honey moon or something."

"I luffsss you two, Dennnmarkk," Greece said as Denmark patted his bare chest.

"We'd hafta gettt marrieddd."

"Marrehhed?"

While the two men deeply contemplated marriage, Belarus was wearing thin on patience. "Then go get married. I could care less what you two do, really."

In the future, Denmark and Greece fully blamed Belarus for what happened next.

"Lessss git…marrehed."

"Righhtt naooo."

They also held a grudge against Belarus. A very, very big grudge.

"Wher do we…git marrehed?"

"I dunnooo."

"Uhh…Go to Egypt's church."

They also hated Turkey for being Denmark's excuse when he was trying to steal the wine.

"Egypt has a churcch?"

"Wherr?"

And Egypt for not having a church next to the bar. In short, they hated everyone even slightly involved in that night.

"In the middle of the desert. Now go." Turning off her camera and pushing the duo out the door, Belarus watched as they fell to the cement ground, Greece landing on Denmark and Denmark landing on…well…the sidewalk. Belarus nodded her head, accomplished and assured that she had enough footage for Hungary to fan over for about a week.

She walked past them and towards her hotel room just as Greece whined "Izz cold out heere."

"Dats cuz you don't have a shirt onn," Denmark supplied, hiccupping slightly and trying to stand.

"Oh yahh…"

Greece managed to stand up, but stumbled onto the wall and was soon leaned on by Denmark. "Letsa go find Egypttt."

"'Kay~." The two staggered through the streets, laughing and being generally obnoxious until they came across a particularly bright neon sign. "Wazdat say?" Greece questioned, squinting.

"Uhhh," was Denmark's smart reply. There was good two minutes of silence in which Denmark had a mental conversation with Greece (and the all-knowing Belarus) about which city they were even in. The silence was broken when the Dane finally said "I think it says chapel…"

Greece smiled widely. "Izznt dat…a churchh…thing?"

"I think sooo."

"Denn…let's go~."

"Okayyyyy."

Oh, how they were going to regret this.

"It smells like…ciiggerettesss."

"It doesss."

What they didn't know was that they hadn't, in fact, walked into a chapel. The bright, neon sign Denmark had tried to read was a sign for a strip club.

"Heeyyyyy, we wanna get marriehedddd."

And the person that Denmark had said that to, believing that it was a receptionist, was actually a poor, random customer who took one look at Greece's bare chest and Denmark's wet pants and ran off screaming.

"Whu?"

Denmark shrugged, pushing his way through the crowd and up to the front. When Greece caught up to him, he was holding a glass of alcohol. "Heeeyyyy, where'd you get that?"

"From behind teh bar…" He took a big gulp from the glass and handed it to Denmark, who drank it until there was only one-fourth of it left, that one-fourth being downed by Greece. What neither of them knew was that the alcohol was extremely concentrated in that drink and it ruined every semblance of sense in them.

And it would've been a very good thing for them to have any sense left for what happened next.

Before the Dane could say anything else, there was a very loud "_Whoo!"_ that was very reminiscent of a certain albino.

"Is that Prussia up thare?"

He was answered by Prussia himself, who was leaning against a stripper pole in a sexy pose. "Prussia looks best in this pose."

"Eeeeehhh…I think that's Prussia up there…"

"It is!" the Greek exclaimed.

"YEAH!" Prussia shouted, dancing to the music.

If they weren't in such a drunken stupor, they would've noticed that Prussia was wearing a _very _short, black, Lolita-like dress along with a long-haired wig and black high heels. Prussia's night job was sent into question the next morning, though.

"Haiiii, Prussiiiaaaa."

"Haaiiii Prussiiah."

"Heeeyyy~."

"We'reee gittin'…marrehed," Greece informed, leaning on Denmark.

Prussia winked. "Aweesomme. Can I be the priest~?"

"Suuree," Greece agreed.

"Woo~. I know lots 'bout gettin' married," Prussia said, holding up the drink menu as though it was a bible.

"Telll ussss."

"That soooo good~."

Prussia studied the menu for a few seconds before announcing "I now pronounce you martini and ginger."

From somewhere close by, someone was clapping for them.

"We're marriehed nao?" the Dane asked, almost falling where he stood.

"Yusss."

"Yayyy…But whut about the ringgsss?"

Greece thought about this for a beat before nodding in agreement.

Prussia quickly looked around, soon spotting two men passed out on the floor and removing the rings on their fingers. "Here ya go~," he said, handing the rings to the two countries.

Denmark put one of the rings on Greece's ring finger, Greece doing the exact same to Denmark. "I luffs you," the Greek said.

"I luffs yu two," Denmark replied, smooching Greece as though they had actually just gotten married. When they broke away, he said "Hurr, let's go dance with Prussiaaaa."

"Okay~."

"Yus, come dance with the awesomeness that is me~."

* * *

The next morning, Denmark awoke with one of the worst hangovers he'd ever had and a foreboding feeling.

"Why do I feel like I did something bad? Like, really bad?" he asked himself, slowly sitting up. He could hear snoring on the floor, so he looked towards the noise. "…Why the hell is Prussia on the floor."

Well, there's clue number one.

He heard groaning coming from behind him and the bed shift from someone sitting up. He grinned perversely—maybe he had brought back a hot girl and Prussia filmed the whole thing!

His beloved fantasies were ruined, though, when the mystery person spoke. "Mmmmmm…what…happened?"

That voice was anything but a girl's.

Scared, Denmark turned slightly to see who the guy in his bed was, only to be unpleasantly surprised.

"Holy…Greece?"

"DENMARK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY BED?"

"Mmm…beer~."

"THIS IS MY BED…I think. I'm not sure anymore."

"…Wait…where…am I…?...Why's Prussia there?"

"I have no idea."

As if by instinct, Denmark looked at his hands, Greece looking at his (Denmark's) hands as well.

"When were you married?" Greece asked, exasperated—he hated when countries went and got married with him being the last to know.

"…Never." Shit. "…I was single last night!" Denmark gave him a look of fear.

"Then what's with the ring?" the brunette asked, pointing to the ring.

"I have no fucking idea."

Then Greece looked at his own hands and noticed the ring on his finger. "What the fuck…When did…I…" The Greek started to panic and the Dane saw the ring on his finger.

And then the most frightening revelation came to Denmark's mind. "…I think we got married."

They stared at each other for awhile before Greece looked under the blankets for any evidence.

"And Prussia was our priest or something like that."

Greece's head snapped up, confusion written on his face. "I have…no idea…what to do…"

"Me neither. All I can think of doing is scream."

And so they screamed.

_Fin._

**Grace Raven**: What is this, I don't even XD

This entire thing was an RP between Denmark (me), Greece (uh…I dunno her penname), and a Belarus/Prussia (AnimeFreaxXx) on IMVU. The Italy in this story was actually Chibitalia in the RP, but who cares for that 8D I actually tried to make some sense of this… I know, such a bad idea, right? XD

Please review!

P.S. Let the jury know that I now ship Greece/Denmark B|


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